Stop Before Your Heart Goes Numb
by Soncnica
Summary: Sometimes all Dean wants to do is drive.
**A/N: If I'll work on this more, I'll go crazy. So …here it is.
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 **I own nothing and I'm sorry for any and all grammar/spelling mistakes you will find.**

* * *

He watches his daddy first. Watches how the man who seems bigger than anything Dean has ever seen, sit behind the big black wheel and turn it this way and that way and every time that happens, his little body swings completely in the opposite direction. It's fun, like a rollercoaster, but safer, because this is his daddy doing all the driving and they're all safely shut inside this big, black box. Nothing can get to him or his baby brother in here, nothing can touch 'em. The rumble of the engine is a constant in his ears, a lullaby that makes him fall asleep as soon as he starts feeling sleepy. Sam too. Sammy never makes any fuss; the rumble begins, the car starts moving, and the tiny vibrations soothe him right to sleep.

The car always seems to get them away from something towards something else.

It's an adventure and he loves it, wants it to never end.

-:-

Back then it wasn't he who was running, it was their dad.

-:-

Sometimes all Dean wants to do is drive; sit behind the steering wheel, sit in the groove his ass made through countless miles, caress the wheel's leather under his blistered palms and think of how he has everything he needs and wants then.

He's got it all.

Sometimes the rides he goes on last for hours, sometimes days, other times just those five minutes to the grocery store, but … there's no time limit to how being on the road makes him feel.

He is calm then. There're no ghosts of people he couldn't save there, no ghosts of friends that died for him - _even if he feels them all taking a ride on the backseat, he just feels it_. He doesn't have to hunt when he's in the car, he doesn't have to think about eyes gone glassy and dead, bodies collapsing to the ground before his very feet. He doesn't have to think about blood and death and decay when he's listening to the roar of his baby.

-:-

He wonders if this feeling of _escape_ was why his dad loved to drive too.

-:-

His baby … soothes all the screams down like the best of booze.

His baby … balances him back on his feet; he doesn't sway left and right when he's sitting on the leather seat.

There's nothing he hears or sees when he's behind the wheel, because his baby knows that she needs to silence every thought, every worry he carries inside of him. His baby knows that she's the one who pushes everything deeper into his mind, stuffs the memories and nightmares and concerns deep, deep down in him and she knows he's grateful for that.

He has _her_ , just like his dad did and he wonders if all she's doing for him now, she practiced on his dad so many years ago.

-:-

And Sam. He has his brother on his right side, his right hand man, his partner in crime, his little brother who never stops chewing on bones long gone. His brother, the shotgun.

It's a tale long written, that his brother will once take the passenger seat. He remembers how it made him feel, when he saw Sam make space on that seat for himself all those years ago.

… _shotgun shuts his cake hole._

He still has memories of Sam, as a child, begging to be allowed to sit shotgun, begging to be allowed to drive. Begging to get to know _her_ , begging to grow up.

He wonders, sometimes, if dad ever knew just how perfect a shot(gun) Sam would become. Because he sure did.

-:-

He has weapons in the trunk, he has duffle bags full of shirts and jeans; some to be washed, some to be thrown away after one more time used as a bandage or a cleaning rag and he has peace.

The weapons get organized and re-organized whenever they can get some time, always adding new things, getting rid of the old and he apologizes to her every time he goes back there, because she's a good girl, keeping all the secrets hidden so well.

And she hides so many secrets; too many to count, but he's there to share the burden, just like she's there for him.

They've got each other and they both have Sam – the bright spot, the light, the bitch who complains and gets them lost when he's too tired to read the map right, the geek who browses the internet while they're speeding down a highway, the health freak who replaces beer with smoothies. The person who chases away the darkness.

-:-

Sometimes all he wants to do is drive; when he's driving he has it all. The sky in front of him, the sky behind him, Sam holding the emptiness at bay and her to drown who he is in. When he opens those creaking doors – that he will never ever fix - he's reborn.

Ready to fight.

Ready to go through another day.

-:-

Sometimes he wants to drive and not stop until his heart will go numb.

But she's never going to allow that, and shotgun currently slurping a green sludge – apparently a green smoothie, whatever - will not allow that either.

Dad, though, sometimes he thinks Dad drove until his heart went numb. And he knows, she won't allow for that to happen again.

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
